


None Of The Usual Haunts

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: After Baskerville, Anal Sex, Blood (like three drops), Captain John Watson, In case you forgot, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John stops dating after Baskerville. Something about how Sherlock admitted he was his only friend has got him thinking. He has a one night stand and Sherlock gets a bit jealous. Rough sex insues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	None Of The Usual Haunts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



> Just some porn for my darling.

John woke in the early evening, confused at the darkness of the room. He blinked open his eyes and saw Sherlock standing at the window. It wasn't the first time Sherlock had lingered at the foot of his bed. It had actually become something of a habit these days. If he longed to touch the lythe man he kept it to himself. He knew Sherlock would change the tide of things when he wanted to. 

A crack of thunder hit then and lightning lit the room soon after. Rain was coming down in bucketfuls and the sound of it against the pane was almost vicious. 

"Power's out all across town. Worst storm in years." Sherlock said, tracing raindrops on the window with one long finger before turning to John. "Looks like we won't be going anywhere for a while." 

John looked at his watch and saw it was only six. He didn't have to be to the clinic for another two hours, and if the storm kept up he wouldn't go in at all. Sherlock walked back to the bed and crawled under the covers head first. John chuckled and lay back as Sherlock moved up his body to lay with his face against John's neck. The warm breath tickled slightly. 

"Well I suppose I'm damned to your company for the time being. What ever shall I do?" John said with false despair. 

Sherlock brushed his nose along the length of John's neck several times, as though scenting him, before biting down on the junction of neck and shoulder. 

"Bloody hell!" John yelped. "Why'd you do that?" 

Sherlock lapped at the broken skin and John had to suppress a moan, not wanting the younger man to get into the habit. 

"Suppose I got a bit possessive." Sherlock said as he looked up and quirked an eyebrow. "The adrenaline will do you good anyhow. Don't need you going stir crazy on me. I know you haven't indulged in your little predilection since the day before last. You'll be itching for excitement and won't be able to leave." 

John let himself take up the shocked position, mouth open and eyes unbelieving. (He should have known Sherlock would find out about his one night stand, even if he was out of town at the time. He'd decided soon after their return from Baskerville that he wouldn't go in for any more relationships. Not with how Sherlock had started looking at him.) Sherlock took it the wrong way. 

"I'm sorry...didn't mean to pry. It's just-" He began anxiously. 

John sealed their lips together and bit down hard on the swell of Sherlock's bottom lip. Sherlock yelped, not unlike John had, and his eyes shot wide. He stayed still, body vibrating and breath rushing in and out of his nose. John counted to breathe slowly and let Sherlock's lip slide from between his teeth. He turned his head and ran his tongue into the space between Sherlock's bottom lip and teeth, tasting blood there. He did all this without breaking eye contact, the move making Sherlock achingly hard. 

"John." He breathed out. 

The lightning came two seconds after the thunder this time and brought Sherlock's wide eyes and flushed cheeks into stark contrast. The sky was now ominously dark, thick with pregnant clouds, bleeding blues and greys into the normal evening light. It gave everything a kind of nightmarish quality, as if it might change quickly. 

John felt suddenly like a predator, waiting in the tall grass with bated breath. Sherlock twitched slightly above him as he waited for a response. He got one when John reached up and ran his thumb through the small amount of blood swelling from his now gleaming lip. His eyes dropped from John's to almost cross as he stared at the thumb, now stroked with red. John brought the thumb to his mouth and sucked HARD, making Sherlock shiver. 

"Adrenaline." John said in a shocking quiet voice. Not so much shocking in its lack of volume, but in its intensity. "Tell me, Sherlock, what do you know of adrenaline?" 

"John." Sherlock repeated, seemingly unable to follow the simple command. 

"I said. Tell. Me." John growled, eyes showing lust addled aggression. 

"I'm an addict." Sherlock said after clearing his throat and looking away to clear his mind as well. "Adrenaline and I have a chequered past. Suppose it's kept me alive once I've been able to find it." 

John ran a hand up the back of Sherlock's neck and into his hair, licking his lips as Sherlock's eyes slid closed. 

"And it's usual haunts have been chemical?" John asked. 

Sherlock shrugged slightly drew in a quick breath when John tightened his grip in his hair. 

"Have you tried...alternatives?" John asked. "Fear? Surprise? Pain?" 

"Why else would I chase dangerous men down dark alleys in exchange for free food and laundry services?" Sherlock replied with a bit of his usual arrogance. 

"And when you get cornered? When it's your turn to run?"

Sherlock leaned down so their lips were just touching and smiled. "All the better for it. Do you like to be chased as well, John?" 

John twisted Sherlock's arm and quickly had their positions reversed. Sherlock grinned up at him, blood tinting his teeth a soft pink. 

"Do you want to fuck me, John?" He asked. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Lounging around in my darkened room, waiting for me to wake." John said, pulling at one end of cord and letting Sherlock's robe fall open. 

Sherlock was flushed across his chest and the same pink touched the head of his cock and upper thighs. John moved back and let Sherlock's legs fall open around him. He reached up and ran his fingers behind Sherlock's bollocks, a little 'oh' panting out as he felt the slick openness of his hole. Sherlock grinned wickedly and rolled his hips, spreading the lube across John's fingers with the action. 

"Jesus." John whispered as he pushed three fingers in easily. 

Sherlock had been working himself open for the better half of the evening, waiting for John to wake up. 

"Take what you want, John." He said. 

John hurriedly tore off his pants and pulled Sherlock's legs over his shoulders. He thrust his hips and made it all the way in in one go. Sherlock grunted and bared his teeth as John pulled out and sank back in again. 

"Yes!" John growled, starting to thrust with an urgency he wouldn't allow himself with any of his girlfriends. 

It was something he missed from the army; hot, hard, desperate fucking. He'd spent much too long being gentle. He wanted to be merciless. 

"That all you can manage...captain?" Sherlock said with a sneer. 

John slapped him hard across the face and he whimpered as John pulled out and flipped him over. He slipped back in and gripped Sherlock's thighs, thrusting deeply and leaving crescents where his short fingernails pulled. 

"Fuck, yes!" Sherlock cursed, reaching a hand beneath his body and gripping his own cock. "I want you to come inside me! Fucking fill me up, you bloody animal!" 

John felt himself getting close and leaned over Sherlock's back to grip his shoulders and pull him bodily onto his cock. The heat was pooling dangerously in his groin as his cock slipped in and out of that exquisite heat. Sherlock was jerking himself roughly and whining and John's vision went white as he felt that ring of muscle tighten around his cock as Sherlock began to come. 

His back arched and he rutted like a jackrabbit, fast and shallow, pushing through that vice-like grip and feeling himself tip over the edge. His hips twitched and he buried himself as deeply as he could, pulling Sherlock off the bed and onto his cock as things went all crinkly around the edges of his consciousness; like biting foil against a filling, like holding a microphone to a speaker. 

When John's brain finally came back on board he was laying with Sherlock pressed against his front. They were both still gasping for air and sweating. He closed his eyes and laughed as Sherlock hummed happily. 

"Good?" He asked. 

"Quite." Sherlock replied.


End file.
